


A Very Potter Oneshot

by Alex_Jay2000



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-06 02:44:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20284099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alex_Jay2000/pseuds/Alex_Jay2000
Summary: Minerva McGonagall refuses to leave the child of the Potters, Sirius and Remus with the Dursleys. She knows what they're like - she's watched them. She knows what they're like, how they'll treat him.So she takes him. She tells Albus that if he objects, he has to find a new Transfigurations professor.Harry Potter is moved in within the hour.





	A Very Potter Oneshot

The name Harry Potter was well known throughout the wizarding world – but nowhere knew it better than at Hogwarts.

Not only had the school seen his parents grow up so soon before their deaths and fought beside them in the Order – they raised him.

When his parents were killed, Minerva McGonagall was the only one to see Dumbledore's plan for what it was. She knew it would be dangerous to raise him with knowledge of how great his survival was, but she refused to let him stay with the Dursleys. She had seen how they looked down on those around them. She knew how they had treated Lily.

So, in an outburst, she had declared she would raise the boy. Dumbledore had stared, unable to find a reasonable excuse to refuse.

Which is how Hogwarts became the home of an orphaned infant. An infant the Gryffindor Head of House had refused to leave behind.

The early months were simple enough – with Irma Pince was always on duty in the library, it was agreed that Harry would spend most of the day with her.

The empty corner beside her desk became a miniature nursery – a crib, beanbag chair, toys. The hard floor had been replaced with a soft carpet, a case of children's books ready for when he began reading.

But he skipped past those books.

Irma first noticed it when he had climbed into one of the window seats – the one with the best view of the quidditch field. He had watched the Slytherin team for almost an hour before falling asleep there.

The next day, he had crawled around the library until he found a lone Hufflepuff – the Hufflepuffs were the most susceptible to his whims.

Once he had turned to the tiny mop of hair, with Harry laughing and waving a tiny stick in the general motion of flying, the poor third-year had found a book on flying and laid it out on the table across from where he sat. Harry – a skilled climber through much practice – quickly climbed up and looked through the book with great interest.

He couldn't understand the scribbles, but he watched the pictures and diagrams move with a fascination unique to children.

When McGonagall arrived to take Harry downstairs for lunch, she was surprised to find the Hufflepuff had abandoned his homework in favour of teaching the excited child about the positions Quidditch players used. Suddenly, that funny squiggle there said 'Seeker', and the one next to it was 'Beater', and the one with the big loopy one was 'Quaffle'.

When the Hufflepuff had noticed McGonagall's watchful gaze, he had grinned at her and told her Harry was bound to be on the team when he reached his second year.

McGonagall, silently, agreed.

When she returned him to the library after lunch, she noticed that the book he had been reading was suddenly in his nursery area, and Irma told her that she had charmed it to read itself aloud for Harry.

Harry learned a lot of words from that book. He would babble away about Quidditch and flying to anyone unfortunate enough to capture his attention.

Despite his interest in learning, Harry seemed to avoid the yearning to walk. McGonagall became concerned when he was nearing two and so far hadn't taken a single step. He could stand, she knew that from watching him climb onto chairs and tables.

But he refused to walk.

She realised why shortly after hearing the Gryffindor Quidditch team joking around about training, and decided to go see how they were doing.

She could hear Harry's excited squeals from the castle – the Quidditch captains had all agreed that they would collect him to watch them practice.

But when she entered the stadium at ground level, she was slightly horrified to see the boy whizzing around on a toy broom, the combined forces of the Gryffindor and Slytherin teams keeping watch and guiding him in wide, slow circles.

She nearly screamed at them. But then she saw one of the Slytherins come up beside him on her own broom, bringing a hand to his shoulder when he started to wobble, she realised what she had given him when she brought him to live with her.

A family.

*

By the time he was six, Harry had read most of the library contents. Irma had convinced McGonagall that forcing him to spend the whole day in the library wasn't healthy, and so the teachers had taken shifts of having him in their classes.

He liked it – sitting at the back and listening to all his aunts and uncles talking about the things they were passionate about. He was good friends with Hagrid, going down to his for tea every day at two. Even Snape, who had initially tried to scare the boy out of his dungeon, had softened over the years. Especially when every one of his classes refused to attend until he let Harry sit in there with them.

It was a rough month of arguments before Dumbledore ordered him to concede.

Harry liked the classes. Harry liked sitting at the teacher's desk and watch everyone in tests. Harry liked the look of fear on their faces when he practised McGonagall's scowl and got it right.

Harry didn't like falling off his broom for the first time when he tried to do a loop. He didn't like the way Snape was outright cold to him. He didn't like exam season when nobody had time for him anymore. He definitely didn't like it when the seventh years left, year after year.

*

When McGonagall surprised Harry with a trip to Diagon Alley and his official Hogwarts letter on his eleventh birthday, he nearly screamed in the middle of the street. After sitting in the background for ten years, he'd finally be able to take all of the classes for real.

"Come on, I've already picked up all of your books. We just need your supplies, wand and robes."

Harry bounced along behind her, taking in every inch of Diagon Alley. Despite his years at Hogwarts, he had never once visited London. McGonagall always took him to tiny corners of Scotland in the summer, sometimes taking him over to Ireland to visit old friends.

"How about this? You get your robe fitting done, and I'll worry about your quills and parchment."

Harry nodded, spying the shop with robes in the window and raced through the crowd. He was fast for his size – every Quidditch captain had promised him the spot of Seeker if he was sorted into their house.

Inside, he was greeted by an elderly witch who ushered him onto a podium. Her measuring tools set to work while the boy next to him – a blond with a funny scowl – started talking to him.

"Have you ever been to Hogwarts before?" He asked Harry, scanning him and smirking.

"Yeah, a bit." Don't be cocky, Harry. McGonagall had told him once. People who act like their better than everyone else don't have many friends.

"My father is on the board of governors. He wanted me to go to Durmstrang, but mother insisted I stay in the country."

"Would you rather go to Durmstrang? I bet they don't have a giant squid in their lake. Hogwarts does though. It's massive, and if you believe the Slytherins, they have a room with a glass wall so you can actually see everything in the lake. That'd be really cool, I think. Far better than anything Durmstrang has."

The boy had laughed, admitting he thought the idea of watching a giant squid through a glass wall would be quite entertaining.

"Right, Mr Malfoy. You're done." The witch's words cut through their conversation, and the boy left Harry alone.

When he met up with McGonagall, who was carrying a cauldron full of school supplies, she waved him towards Ollivander's.

"Go on, I have some official business to attend to. Garrick is an old friend, he'll make sure you get the right wand. Wait inside with him once you're done, I'll come back and pay him when I'm done."

*

Waiting outside the Great Hall was nerve-wracking.

McGonagall had insisted he go through the tradition of riding the Hogwarts Express. They'd stayed in London for that exact reason after their trip to Diagon Alley.

But now, stood with Ron on one side and Draco on the other, he wasn't sure it had been the best idea.

Draco was saying something about Ron's family – something Harry was sure wasn't a nice thing to say. But before he had a chance to say something against it the doors opened.

And there was McGonagall. Her scowl was firmly in place – I scare them first, so they know I won't tolerate bad behaviour – but there was a softness in her eyes that was reserved only for Harry.

"Can I have everyone's attention? Can you all follow me into the Great Hall, and follow my instructions as you are sorted. Come along."

Harry had walked into the hall a thousand times before. It was so familiar it hurt.

The ceiling was peaceful, with a hundred tiny stars twinkling down on them. Candles floated over the tables, students watched and pointed out siblings and family friends to the people around them. Everyone pointed at Harry. Some waved. A few had the audacity to pass coins to the Weasley twins – still betting on which house he would be in.

Harry watched for the tenth year as students were sorted. For the first and last time, Harry's name was called out.

The first years were amazed – even some of the existing students recoiled in shock. He was always Harry. McGonagall's Harry, if his name wasn't enough. But never Harry Potter.

Harry argued with the hat for what felt like hours – he couldn't choose one house over another.

"I can't!" The hat shouted, twisting upon his head. "He cannot be sorted! He cannot be in just one house!"

The hall was silent. This had never happened before – Harry knew that.

But it had happened. And the hat's decision was final.

*

Harry got to stay in his old room. But he had always wanted to stay in the dormitories. Which is why he made a bold decision when McGonagall took him out of the Great Hall immediately after he was sorted.

"I want to stay in the dormitories, but I don't want to choose a house." He stated, sitting on the first step of the closest staircase. "Maybe I could go between the houses. Choose which ones I'm within each class, have a bed in every dormitory."

"I'm not sure how they'll respond to that," McGonagall admitted. She joined Harry on the step, staring ahead while she thought. "Then again, the houses have seemed quite divided over recent years. You've brought them together, but that usually only goes as far as the Quidditch pitch and the library."

"See? I can bring everyone together. I won't even play Quidditch. But please, I can't just do things the way I always have."

The doors opened a short time later, revealing Dumbledore and his usual smile.

"I finished sorting myself, to give the two of you some time to talk. I assume you won't be choosing a house?" Harry knew the question was rhetorical. The teachers knew him well enough that they could guess his every move.

Still, he shook his head.

"Might I suggest you sit with any friends you have already made for tonight. Minerva will discuss the details with me tonight, and I will send you an owl tomorrow confirming how this will work." He smiled, beckoning Harry towards the door. "Go, enjoy your dinner."

Harry sat with Ron that night. Fred was the first to congratulate him, while George accused him of lying about his identity.

"You never told us you were Harry Potter," he stated, angry. "You were Just Harry, McGonagall's Harry. Wood's prodigy."

"Don't start," Oliver chimed in, head buried in his hands a few seats down. "He was meant to be our next seeker. But no, the guy can't even be sorted."

Harry was laughing – he'd always known that Wood was grooming him for the position. Everyone was.

"I've decided I'm not playing. It's not right to choose just one house to play for. Besides, I think Snape would have a heart attack if I chose the enemy team."

"I don't understand," a girl further down started, "how do you already know the teachers? And older students?"

"I live here. McGonagall raised me after my parents died. I've been causing hell here longer than the Weasleys." He gave the twins a glance, then spotted a familiar face on the next table. "Cedric, amazing result wasn't it."

"You've let down every Quidditch Captain in this place. Look, Slytherin has given up already."

The Slytherins didn't look like they had given up. Some of them were openly disappointed, but Flint had gathered the team and was already running through options for the next year. Harry recognised Draco Malfoy as one of those listening to what they were saying, stealing glances across the hall.

All the first years were craning their necks to see him. Everyone else had already recovered from the shock.

***

A few weeks in, Harry had developed a system.

Harry changed dormitories every week so that he spent his time each month almost evenly divided amongst them. His classes were split between Gryffindor and Slytherin since he would then also be with Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs regularly.

He was good friends with most of the students in his year. Some were difficult to get on with – he'd struggled to get Ron to give Draco a chance, but he proved useful when they rescued Hermione from the troll.

***

Harry thought he'd found the best friends he could ask for. So he didn't have a house – it didn't matter.

He had Ron, Hermione and Draco.

They had fought together to keep the Philosopher's Stone out of You-Know-Who's hands. Ron had directed them from the side-lines, arguing with Draco when he sacrificed himself so that they could beat the chess set. Ron had stayed with him while Hermione helped Harry with the potions challenge, then running back to get help.

When Harry had awoken in the hospital wing, he could hear Draco arguing with Poppy over getting in to see him. The words 'my father will hear about this' echoed through the door several times.

When he waved goodbye to them on the platform at the end of the year, promising to write every day, he knew he had the best friends in the world.

He didn't quite realise that he had a better family.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> I wrote this quite a while ago, so figured I'd get it online.


End file.
